er, Anne
would sit beside them, sometimes chattering and 'making believe' with
Honey-Sweet, sometimes prattling to her grown-up friends about her old
home in Virginia or her life in New York.

Mrs. Patterson petted her and made dainty frocks for Honey-Sweet. Brisk,
practical Miss Drayton gave Anne spelling lessons and set her problems
in number work, protesting that she was too large a girl to spend all
her time playing and looking at fairy-tale books, blue, red, and green.
Why, she did not even read them except by bits and snatches, but made up
tales to fit the pictures, and told over and over the stories that were
read to her.

She was always ready to drop a book for a romp with Pat Patterson.
Bounding about the deck together, they looked like a greyhound and a St.
Bernard--she slim and alert, he with his rough hair tumbling over his
merry, freckled face. Often their games ended by her stalking away with
Honey-Sweet, in offended dignity. Pat was such a tease!

"Isn't that a pretty doll?" he said one day, with suspicious
earnestness. "I say, lend her to me awhile, Anne."

Anne objected.

"Oh, you Anne! You wouldn't be selfish, would you?" wheedled Pat.
"Didn't I lend you my bow and arrows yesterday? And I always give you
half my macaroons. Just hand her over for a minute. Let me see the color
of her eyes."

"You know they are blue--like the story-book princess,--'her eyes were
as bright and as blue as the sky above the summer sea,'" quoted Anne,
reluctantly letting him take her pet.

"Blue they are. D'ye know, Anne, I think she'd make a capital William
Tell's child. Don't believe she'd be afraid for me to shoot the apple
off her head. Let's see."

Before Anne could interfere, Pat had suspended Honey-Sweet to a hook out
of her reach. A ball of string was fixed on her head by means of a wad
of chewing-gum.

Then Pat stepped back, drew his bow, and made a great show of aiming his
arrow at the pretended apple.

"How brave she is! She does not wink an eyelid," he said solemnly. "To
think! to think! If me aim be not true, I'll ki-ill me child," he
exclaimed, shaking with mock fear and dismay.

"Oh, Pat, Pat, don't!" implored Anne, grasping his arm.

"Away, away!" said Pat, drawing back. "Me heart failed but for a
moment. William Tell is himself once more. Behold!" And he took aim
again.

"Stop him! stop him! Don't let him shoot Honey-Sweet!" cried Anne.

Miss Drayton looked up quickly from her book.

"Pa